


Some Like It Hot

by IsVampirismGay



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Humor, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28637154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsVampirismGay/pseuds/IsVampirismGay
Summary: the firemen au has finally arrived! there's sexy photoshoots, rivalry with the cops and himbos galore!this is going to be a series of connected one shots, so I decided to put them into one multi chapter fic instead of a series cause without knowing the context many things could be hard to understand in the future one shots. a big thanks to everyone on tumblr who decided to join in with their headcanons, this is really more of a communal work and I highly encourage other writers to join in the fun!
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay/d'Artagnan/Athos | Comte de la Fère/Porthos du Vallon
Comments: 24
Kudos: 30





	1. You Can Leave Your Hat On

**Author's Note:**

> tragedy strikes and both the fire and police departments decide to help, but more importantly, upstage each other

The local elementary school was an old building, of unsteady structure and more than in need of renovation. When the heavy rain caused floods the fire department had more than enough work helping families secure their homes so no one really paid attention to the school until a landslide already ruined the northern side of the building.

Treville sent any men he could spare to secure the mass of mud and stone, but the damage was done. Treville's nerves were capable of withstanding many things, but Richelieu's gloating might just be the straw that would break proverbial camel's back.

The municipality as always didn't have enough money to finance the cleanup or renovation wholly so various local organisations stepped in to help the school and other victims of the rainfall.

Even the police department did so. Treville suspected that they did it mostly so they could boast about being better than the firefighters. He knew Richelieu well enough to know that he wasn't capable of altruism without any ulterior motives. But the possibility of upstaging the police kept that last semblance of his sanity from fraying.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen." Treville addressed the assortment of firefighters, both professional and voluntary. "Thank you for your input on the possible fundraising ideas, with your help we have compiled a selection of options we are contemplating."

He gestured to the whiteboard next to him. "We are going to execute the most popular and feasible options first," he announced.

On the board there was a list of suggestions with ticks indicating popularity. One item stood out from the rest by the overwhelming number of ticks.

In bold, neat letters it said "SEXY FIREMEN CALENDAR."

* * *

A good amount of arguing and voting later, the roles of photographer and designer were already set and there was also a list of possible models. Treville read the names from the board.

"Aramis?"

The man in question winked at him. "Of course, Captain."

Treville nodded. "Keep it tasteful," he sternly said. "And you're required to wear pants."

Aramis pouted. "But it's supposed to be sexy!" he complained.

Treville glared at him briefly and returned back to the list.

"Porthos?"

Aramis' tall friend perked up. "Sure!" he agreed. "Do I get to hold King Louis XIII?"

* * *

King Louis XIII was Treville's fat corgi. He was cheerful, cute and mildly annoying and Porthos would often get scolded by his captain for stalking as he followed the dog when Treville walked him through the park.

Every time there was an event outside King Louis XIII was sure to be smothered with love and endless supply of sausages which earned Porthos more than one lecture about healthy dog diets.

The one thing about King Louis XIII that united Treville and Porthos was defending the dog from the disapproval of the mayor, Louis Bourbon who claimed to have been distantly related to the line of the actual King Louis XIII.

* * *

Treville sighed.

"Okay, you get to hold King Louis XIII."

Porthos grinned widely.

"Thank you, Captain!" he beamed.

* * *

"D'Artagnan?"

He nodded enthusiastically.

"Can I climb through a second story window?" he asked.

"You can get a normal floor window, we're not making Constance take the ladder just one dumb picture."

Constance nodded and gave d'Artagnan a stern look.

She was a volunteer firefighter, otherwise a fashion designer and knew her way around a camera. As she was the only person with the equipment and skillset required for execution of the project there was an unanimous agreement that she should have a final word on decisions regarding it.

Which meant she wasn't about to haul her 2000€ worth camera to the second story just so d'Artagnan could have an adrenaline rush at a photoshoot.

Treville moved to the next name on the list.

"Athos?"

"No."

"Actually," interrupted Aramis, draping his arm all around Athos, "He will."

Athos stared at him coldly and slowly shook his head.

"Next time you drive I promise not to scream," whispered Porthos into his ear.

"And we're buying you six bottles of your favourite wine," added Aramis.

"I promise to take off my muddy shoes every time I come to your place," whispered d'Artagnan.

Treville looked at Athos expectantly.

"Okay," he finally relented. "I'm doing it."

Treville nodded approvingly and added his name to the confirmed participants.

He looked at the list of possible models.

"Oh."

Words "CAPTAIN TREVILLE" shone on the board.

He turned towards the expectant faces looking at him.

"I'm doing it too," he said and jotted his own name down as the hall erupted in cheers.

* * *

"How on earth did he find out?" asked Porthos.

They were sitting in the break room, eating brunch.

Aramis pointedly avoided everyone's eyes.

"Aramis," said Athos.

"I'm sorry, okay?" said Aramis. "I didn't mean to!"

"Wait, what did you do?" asked d'Artagnan.

Aramis sighed sadly. "I visited Adele and I might have let it slip," he admitted.

"Adele?" asked d'Artagnan.

"As in Richelieu's lover?" added Porthos.

Athos' face looked a degree more tired.

Aramis nodded awkwardly.

"Richelieu found out cause you've let it slip when you were canoodling with his lover?" asked Porthos.

* * *

Richelieu was the local police chief and generally despised by the entirety of the fire department. He was a sour, scheming old man who seemed like he only wanted money and influence. Treville, the captain of the fire department had a special vendetta against him that he did not talk about.

The two departments tried to one-up each other and competed for the locals' popularity and municipality funds.

The newest aspect of the rivalry was them trying to outdo each other in the fundraising efforts.

And the newest aspect of this newest aspect was the police trying to do their own sexy calendar.

* * *

"How much did you let her know?"

Aramis scratched his head.

"Only that I'm modelling and uh." His face grew alarmed. "Oh God, I told her Treville's posing too."

Athos' eyes widened slightly.

"Will he now pose too?" asked d'Artagnan, scared.

"If he'll want to outdo us he'll have to," Athos said gravely and gulped down the remainder of his coffee.

* * *

Constance turned out to be a wonderful photographer, gently nudging the models into right poses without being too forceful. She joked around with them, making them feel at ease despite the intimidating prospect of standing half naked in front of giant camera lens.

Aramis was the first one she took photos of, making d'Artagnan and Athos help her with the lighting. Aramis himself was more than happy to lose his shirt and only stern reminders of Treville's orders kept his pants on. Porthos smeared some oil over him for extra gleam and added a few artful dashes of soot.

"You look positively ravishing," he said, to which Aramis just laughed.

"I know," he replied and winked.

"Everyone ready now?" asked Constance.

They assumed their positions.

Aramis took a hold of the pole and pressed his crotch sensually into it.

"I feel like I should have my pants open for this," he complained.

"Aramis," said Athos, holding a giant reflective panel, "If your pants were any lower your dick would be out."

"Pose!" Constance interrupted, readying her camera.

Aramis immediately snapped to attention, rearranging himself into a perfect image of smolder and debauchery.

"Great, let's try another one," she said.

Aramis turned so his back was against the pole, grinding his ass on it.

"Keep it _tasteful,"_ Athos said, tired.

"I dunno, I was quite enjoying the show," Porthos said with a big smile.

Aramis smiled and winked at him in solidarity.

"I was not," Constance said.

* * *

"King Louis XIII!"

Porthos ran towards the corgi which excitedly waddled to meet him

"He loves me!" exclaimed Porthos as he immediately smothered the dog in kisses and hugs.

Treville looked at him disapprovingly.

"He loves the food you always give him," he said.

"That's preposterous! He loves me for my wonderful personality!" Porthos protested and covered King Louis XIII in more kisses.

Treville's face cracked into a smile. "Just get to posing already," he said and handed Porthos the leash.

Porthos happily led King Luis XIII to the giant fire truck that they've decided to use as a prop.

"Do you wanna drive?" he cooed to the gleeful corgi and set him on the driver's seat. King Louis XIII barked happily, wagging his tail even more forcefully.

"Athos, Aramis, get the panels!" Constance interrupted. The men hurried to do her bidding. She turned her attention to Porthos.

"We could do a few shots with King Louis XIII in your lap and then maybe a few in front of the truck." She looked at Treville. "What do you think?"

"Just please don't give him food," he answered.

* * *

"Isn't it beautiful?"

D'Artagnan spread his arms, gesturing at an old house that seemed to have been on the verge of falling apart.

"If you like death and tetanus," answered Porthos.

"Are you sure we can have a shoot here?" asked Constance.

D'Artagnan scoffed. "Of course, why would I be taking you here in the first place?"

Constance shrugged. "Just checking."

D'Artagnan took off his shirt. "Can we get started now?"

"Put that shirt back on before you catch cold," sternly said Athos as he helped Constance set up her equipment.

Once things have been set up and d'Artagnan's abs were glistening sufficiently he climbed through the broken-open window.

Porthos handed him a firemen's axe.

"Yeah, now pose like you're going in but looking at me," Constance said.

D'Artagnan obliged and they went through a few different poses.

"Now one where you've got one leg in and another out," Constance instructed.

D'Artagnan did what she said and she snapped a few photos.

"What are you doing here?!" a voice yelled from the musty inside.

D'Artagnan tried to jump out, slipping and landing with the rusty metal frame right between his legs. His face turned ashy and he slowly fell to the outside, clutching his crotch the entire time.

"Fuck," said Constance and gathered her equipment, Aramis and Athos helping.

Noises of a man walking echoed ever closer from the inside and Porthos picked up d'Artagnan, the whole group bolting before the mysterious man found them.

* * *

Athos was staring at the hose apprehensively.

"Come on," said Aramis, sounding like a mother convincing her son to eat a vegetable. "Just hold it."

Athos took it into his hands.

"You can always change your mind," gently added Porthos.

"Our success isn't worth your discomfort, it's okay if you're scared," said d'Artagnan.

Athos' head snapped towards d'Artagnan furiously.

"I am not a coward," he snarled. "I just consider myself above such banal expressions of sexuality."

"So you're willing to doom us for the sake of your pride?" asked Porthos.

Athos scowled.

"Just take the damn photos," he said to Constance and arranged himself into a perfect image of bravery and determination, but sexy.

* * *

They visited Agnes' farm. Last year her barn was almost completely destroyed in a fire, but the firefighters managed to save the rest of the buildings and ever since then she's been sending yearly treats to the station.

"We would like to borrow a duckling or two if we can?" Treville politely asked.

Agnes raised her eyebrows. "What do you need them for?"

"Super secret photoshoot," Treville answered and winked.

Agnes blushed, pretending tobe taking a moment to consider it. "Should be okay unless you plan on anything extra disruptive or lengthy."

Treville shook his head. "Just an hour or so in front of the station," he answered.

"Okay," Agnes agreed.

A short while later saw Treville triumphantly return to the station with a basket of ducklings in the passenger seat.

"Oh God, they're so adorable," said Aramis and rushed to the basket, only to have Porthos elbow his way there first.

"Babies," he breathed fervently and gently extended a finger to pat their heads.

"If you will," said Constance to Treville, gesturing to his shirt.

"Of course," he said and took it off, revealing an impressively muscular torso.

"What the fuck," whispered d'Artagnan to Athos. "Had no idea he's this shredded."

"Thank you d'Artagnan, I do try to stay in shape," Treville said, making d'Artagnan blush in embarrasement.

Constance set up her camera and Athos applied the obligatory grease for shine, adding in some soot marks. D'Artagnan was fumbling terribly with the reflection panels.

Porthos handed Treville a duckling, helping him balance it on his shoulder. Constance snapped a few photos.

"I've got an idea," d'Artagnan said. "What if you tried to lead the ducklings in a neat little row..."

"Like a mama duck!" exclaimed Porthos, eyes shining with glee.

"Just like he was to be our mother sometimes," added Athos under his breath, making Treville laugh.

"If Monsieur agrees?" Constance said.

Treville nodded. "I think it's a brilliant idea," he praised d'Artagnan.

* * *

The entire staff of the fire department gathered in front of the station, the five models standing in the front, shirtless.

"This feels like a really weird version of the school photoshoots," Porthos said.

"Yeah, it's like those dreams where you and your teacher are for some reason the only naked people in the class," d'Artagnan agreed.

"We'll we're not completely naked at least," Athos said.

"Unfortunately," Aramis added mournfully.

* * *

The stack of calendars was delivered to the fire station just in time for them to have enough time to prepare them for the numerous December fairs.

"Oh, this is beautiful," said Aramis, looking at the photos. "Too bad it's just us, but I'm sure we'll totally beat the cops in sales."

"I'm sure the schoolchildren will appreciate," Athos said.

"Of course!" said Aramis. "I did this purely out of the goodness of my heart. Unlike the cops."

He looked the pictures through appreciatively once again and then finally put the calendar down.

"The cops don't have enough guts to pose half naked anyway," scoffed Porthos, the rest of them murmuring in agreement.


	2. Make Merry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this time our heroes face the daunting task of preparing for the december fair. there's fire, cold and kisses for everyone!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope i didn't leave any mistakes, enjoy!

The town was abuzz with the preparations for the December fair. Usually it consisted of local farmers and artisans selling their signature goods, but mostly it was used as an excuse to get drunk on mulled wine and consume inhuman quantities of sweets. This year various local institutions joined in to raise funds for the ruined school.

It was also the debut of their calendars.

The fire and police departments both took the fair very seriously and the already competitive nature of their relationship turned downright hostile.

"So far we've got the calendars, mugs, cookies, an arm wrestling betting pool and a kissing booth. Any volunteers for roles?"

Treville was once again standing next to the board with a list of suggestions.

Aramis' arm shot up.

"Kissing booth," he said, smiling widely.

Porthos raised his hand. "Arm wrestling."

"Keeping the police away" Athos said.

Trevile stopped jotting down the names.

"We’re supposed to make as much money as we can," he said. "Even if it comes from the police."

A chorus of quiet groans and muttering arose from the firefighters.

"Do you want to sell the merch maybe?" Treville asked. "Do the behind the scenes stuff?"

"Behind the scenes," Athos relented.

"I'll be selling the merch," d'Artagnan volunteered.

Treville wrote down their names.

"Monsieur," innocently said one of the firefighters, "Don't you think you should be at the kissing booth too?"

A chorus of wolf whistles responded to the suggestion.

"I'm afraid I'd be turning the people away," Treville said humourously.

"You're a DILF, don't be so humble!" someone heartily exclaimed.

Treville blinked several times and cleared his throat. "Thank you for your vote of confidence but the spot is already filled. Now, who is going to prepare our cookies?"

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" d'Artagnan asked. They were currently in Constance's kitchen, preparing samples of several different cookies.

"Yes, I need to test the recipes to find out which is the best," Constance replied. "And I need some extra hands to do it in time which is why I need you four."

Porthos was standing with a bowl and whisk in hand, mixing the ingredients. He was wearing an apron that said "KISS THE COOK" and was covered in flour. "I'm always happy to help," he said cheerfully and continued mixing.

"Maybe a bit too happy," Athos grumbled. There were still traces of ingredients in his beard and hair from Porthos' overenthusiastic mixing.

"Stop complaining and keep kneading," Constance said.

"Yeah, stop talking so much," Aramis said cheekily, earning himself a kick to the legs. "Constance!"

"Children, the lot of you!"

D'Artagnan raised his hand. "Constance?" he asked. "It's been fifteen minutes. Do I take them out?"

Constance inspected the cookies in the oven. "Yeah, they're done." She looked at d'Artagnan sternly. "But be careful, the oven is a bit old and if you don't do it carefully you'll probably knock off the ledge for the tray and burn yourself."

"Don't worry," d'Artagnan said. "We're firefighters, we can handle hot stuff!"

* * *

The cookies were on fire.

* * *

D'Artagnan opened the oven, reached in and promptly knocked the ledge that held up the tray, making the tray collapse on one side, cookies right with it.

The cookies, now not protected by the baking paper anymore, contacted the extremely hot metal and caught fire.

"Shit!" d'Artagnan exclaimed, reeling back from the fire.

"Quick, put it out!" Porthos shouted.

"With what?" Aramis asked.

"We can't use water!" Athos answered.

They were interrupted by a stream of white blowing from extinguisher that Constance grabbed from the corridor.

"I can't believe you four are supposed to be firemen," she said after the fire has been put out.

"To be fair, we're used to having all the needed equipment at our disposal," Aramis said.

Porthos looked mournfully at the now ruined mix in his bowl.

"We'll have to start it over," he said sadly.

"Don't you think there's slightly more pressing issues at hand?" Athos said, gesturing towards the oven.

"Like a shower," d'Artagnan grumbled, being the only unfortunate to receive the full blast from extinguisher.

"You're all cleaning up this mess," Constance said, putting the fire extinguisher aside.

"Yes, Madam," Aramis said meekly.

* * *

They put the cookies on the table in the communal room.

"These are the easiest to make," Constance said, pointing to one tray, "These are harder and more time consuming, then there's some different flavoured ones."

The group of firefighters looked at the trays hungrily.

 _"No_ eating seconds," Constance said, "And everyone has to vote their favourites one here," she pointed to the board.

The firefighters' faces dropped.

* * *

They were setting up their cluster of stands, decorating them and adding the lights for later. Treville was there too, as was King Louis XIII, which meant that the group was left without Porthos.

"Who's the prettiest little king?" Porthos cooed, scratching King Louis XIII behind his ears.

"How is it going? Any problems?" Treville asked, ignoring Porthos' happy blubbering.

"There's not enough lights for all the stands, but Gus said he'll fetch extra from home," Athos answered. "I think it should all be done in time."

"Good," Treville said.

Someone scoffed behind him.

Richelieu was standing disapprovingly a few paces away from their cluster.

"Such level of unpreparedness and unprofessionalism would never be tolerated in the police department," he said.

"Interrupting other people's production is the level of unprofessionalism I would never allow in _my_ department," Treville retorted.

"And bringing a dog to work?" Richelieu tsked. "How inappropriate."

Porthos glared at him, putting a protective arm around the already smothered corgi.

"His name is King Louis XIII," Treville said, "And he still brings more good to this community than your whole department."

"Go off, Captain," Porthos exclaimed and immediately got shushed by Athos.

"You see? You can't even control your men!" Richelieu gestured towards Porthos.

"Contrary to the popular belief, work and fun are not mutually exclusive," Treville said. "Now please stop breathing down my neck."

Richelieu smiled. "Oh, don't worry, Treville. I will get out of your hair now, not that it would help your department perform better."

He turned around, swishing his huge coat and walked away.

Treville sighed, glaring a hole into Richelieu's back.

"Don't worry Captain, we'll beat them so thoroughly that Richelieu won't dare show his face in public for weeks!" Aramis exclaimed.

"That was very specific," Athos commented.

"I like to make myself clear," Aramis answered.

* * *

The evening came soon enough and the town square was filled with people moving around the stands, happy, warmed by the various beverages and increasingly more intoxicated.

Treville has come to check up on the stalls here and there, making sure everything flowed as it should. The stack of calendars was disappearing with a startling speed and Aramis barely had time to speak with the Treville. Porthos was having a relatively easy time, most people not yet drunk enough to challenge his strength.

"Did you see the cops' calendar?" Athos asked Treville.

"Only the cover photo, it's just a group shot," he answered. "I don't know how well are their sales going either, there's too many people around."

Athos nodded in understanding.

"I bet fifty bucks I can beat you!"

Everyone turned their heads to the brave man approaching Porthos.

"Accepted," Porthos said.

Athos came to his little table, writing down the bet and taking the fifty Euros.

"Oh, it's Dujon," Aramis scoffed.

"Dujon?" d'Artaganan inquired.

"He has it out for Porthos," Aramis replied. "He's convinced that Porthos cheated him out of some money a while back."

D'Artagnan nodded in understanding. “Did he?”

Aramis winked. “Of course, but that’s not the point.”

A woman placed a coin into the jar and cleared her throat loudly.

"Apologies," Aramis said and turned towards her, puckering his lips.

* * *

Dujon sat down opposite of Porthos, his aggressive and tense demeanour against Porthos’ relaxed and almost mocking smile.

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Aramis said, blowing a kiss to Porthos who acknowledged the gesture with a wink and prepared his arm to grasp Dujon’s.

“Both of you are to stay firmly seated and use only one arm,” Athos monotonously recited the rules. “If any of you breaks the rules he’s automatically declared the loser. To win you have to pin your opponent’s hand to the table. You start on my mark.”

“I’ll show you what the police force is made of,” Dujon sneered. “We’re not like you thieving firemen.”

“Yeah, I know,” Porthos replied. “You suck and we don’t.”

Dujon twitched in his seat.

“Get ready gentlemen,” Athos interrupted. “And three, two, one, go!”

Dujon and Porthos strained, pushing at each other. Dujon puffed, sweat beading on his increasingly redder face.

“You look so funny,” Porthos said. “But I’ve had enough of your ugly mug.”

With one swift motion he pinned Dujon’s arm.

“Thank you for your patronage,” Athos said politely.

Dujon was looking at Porthos’ smug face in disbelief, breathing hard.

“Monsieur,” Athos said, a hint of warning in his voice.

“Fine,” Dujon spat. “Unlike you at least I’m not a brute.” He got up, pushing the chair noisily and angrily stalked away.

“Well,” d’Artagnan said. “That was almost sad.”

Porthos laughed. “Anyone else?” he asked, the audience now dispersing.

* * *

The mayor and his wife also decided to visit the fair. They were accompanied by Richelieu and Treville, trying to get them to spend their money on their respective stalls.

“Oh look, Louis!” the mayor’s wife exclaimed. “They’ve got an arm wrestling booth! And kissing!”

Treville nodded. “We also have merchandise and sweets,” he said, shooting both Porthos and Aramis warning looks.

“I should try arm wrestling!” Louis the mayor exclaimed. “I do work out, you know,” he proudly told both Treville and Richelieu.

Treville granted him a smile that had nothing to do with his faith in Louis’s workout regime.

“I don’t think that’s an activity befitting of your station,” Richelieu commented, earning himself a glare from Treville.

“What do you think, Anne?” Louis asked his wife. “I think it would be fun!”

Anne nodded. “By all means,” she said. “And it’s for charity too!”

“Yes, of course.” Louis dug into his pockets. “We already donated towards the new school, but a little more doesn’t hurt.”

He pulled out his wallet, taking a twenty Euro bill.

“I bet twenty Euros!” he announced.

Athos stepped to the booth, handling the bet and explaining the rules. Anne turned towards Treville and Richelieu.

“This is a very nice gesture, Captains,” she said. “I’m sure the families greatly appreciate what you and your departments are doing.”

“It is our duty to serve the people,” Richelieu replied pompously.

Trevile nodded in thanks. “Thank you, Madam,” he answered. “Do you want to maybe look at our merchandise?” he suggested.

“Maybe after, with Louis,” she answered and looked around. “But kissing booth is open, I see!”

She made her way to Aramis.

“Captain,” Treville said, dragging Richelieu with him. “Maybe you would like to purchase something?”

He gestured at the merchandise and sweets. D’Artagnan gave them his shiniest smile.

* * *

“Good evening, Madam,” Aramis greeted pleasantly.

“Good evening,” Anne answered, a bashful smile on her face. She pulled out a bill and stuck it into the payment jar. “I’m a married woman,” she said, “So a kiss on the cheek maybe?”

Aramis smiled, fluttering his eyelashes at her. “Of course.”

* * *

“Oh, how inappropriate,” Richelieu said, looking at the calendar sample. “Getting shirtless for a lewd photoshoot?” He tsked.

“Would you like to buy one?” d’Artagnan asked.

“As a matter of fact, I would,” Richelieu answered, pulling out his wallet.

“The fire department thanks you for your support,” Treville said.

* * *

She leaned in, showing her cheek. Aramis gently placed his hand on her jaw and kissed her cheek tenderly.

Treville desperately looked at Athos and d’Artagnan. Louis was just sitting down across Porthos.

“Thank you for your contribution,” Aramis said softly as Anne drew back. She smiled, gazing into his eyes.

“Anne?”

“I have to go,” she said, stepping away. “Thank you!”

She stepped to Louis’ side as he readied himself to challenge Porthos.

Treville glared at Aramis whose satisfied smile quickly disappeared into a mask of badly concealed panic.

Porthos smiled almost politely and clasped hands with Louis.

“Ready?” Athos asked, waiting for the confirmation from both. “Three, two, one, go!”

They’ve strained, Louis grunting loudly. Porthos’ arm fell back a bit. Louis’ face was red with effort. After a torturous minute of back-and-forth Porthos finally pinned Louis’ arm.

Treville, Richelieu, Athos and Anne clapped respectfully.

“Well,” Louis said breathlessly, “I shouldn’t win if that money’s going towards the school.”

“Of course, my dear,” Anne said placatingly.

“That’s very considerate of you,” Richelieu added.

“You didn’t even break a sweat,” Athos murmured to Porthos, who just shrugged.

“It’s too cold,” he argued.

Athos wordlessly patted his shoulder and returned to hide behind piles of merchandise.

“We should buy some of these!” Anne exclaimed. Louis nodded, pointing at a pre-prepared packet of various cookies. “One of these,” he said.

Anne looked to the side, where the calendars were being displayed. “What are those?” she asked.

“Oh,” d’Artagnan cleared his throat awkwardly. “These are calendars,” he said “Displaying… department’s members’ physique.”

Anne raised an eyebrow. “You mean it’s shirtless calendars,” she said bluntly.

“Yeah,” he answered, blushing. “Do you want one?”

“Come one, we don’t need this sort of trash,” Louis whined, already stuffing himself with the sweets.

“It’s for charity, Louis!” Anne said.

“Okay,” he relented, eating another cookie.

They’ve made their purchases and continued on, still led around by Richelieu and Treville who briefly turned around to glare at Aramis.

* * *

“Well, that’s a disappointment,” Porthos said.

Treville was standing in the hall, showing them the official policemen calendar. It featured a few members of the department, including Dujon, who looked strangely sickly in the cold tinged photographs.

“I think they tried to make it more blue,” Constance said, disgust and fascination mixing in her voice. “For the department’s colours.”

“I assumed that’s the case,” Treville confirmed.

“It just makes them look even worse than they do,” Athos commented.

“Yeah,” d’Artagnan agreed. “Can you please go back to the first one?”

Treville obliged, showing them the January picture.

It was a portrait shot of Richelieu, staring at the viewer like a dead fish.

The three of them laughed.

“Oh, Aramis’ gotta see this,” Porthos cackled, whipping out his phone to take a picture.

“Sent!” he announced.

“No public insults on the internet,” Treville said sternly and put away the calendar. “We shouldn’t get into childish squabbles on Twitter or Instagram or whatever people use these days.”

“Understood,” d’Artagnan said with a grave seriousness. “Can you send me the pic?” he asked Porthos.

“Don’t get too distracted with the calendar,” Treville said and retreated to his office, taking the object in question.

“How many memes are you going to make?” Porthos quietly asked.

“So many,” d’Artagnan said fervently.

* * *

“You won’t believe this shit!”

Aramis pulled out a chair, all but collapsing on it.

A small group quickly assembled around him.

“Do tell,” Porthos urged him.

Aramis buried his face in his hands. “I’ve been at Adele’s,” he started, voice slightly muffled.

He lifted his head to look at people gathered around him.

“There’s another version of the calendar,” he said hoarsely. “And Richelieu is shirtless.”

He let his head fall back into his hands as the room exploded in questions and various horrified expletives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also i swear i will draw the meme pic of Richelieusome time in the future

**Author's Note:**

> anyway talk to me in the comments or on tumblr i'm @dropdeadjack there
> 
> cheers!


End file.
